Connexion
by Arwyn L
Summary: AU. HG x Myka. Set right after S2's time-travelling "When and Where" episode, because neither the S2 nor S3 finale sits well with me. "Connexion" is written in an episodic format, largely in the style of the TV series and includes the whole pre-S3 gang.
1. Bang for the Buck, Part I

Myka poked her head around the door and saw H.G. engrossed in writing at her desk. After a moment's hesitation, she knocked lightly on the mahogany door frame.

"Helena?"

"Oh hello, Myka," H.G. greeted as she placed her pen down. She turned in her chair to face her. "What brings you here this time of the evening?"

"Well, I was just…" Myka started, before she furrowed her brow and changed her line of thought. "Hey, are you sure I'm not bothering you? Because if you're in the middle of a story idea or anything, I wouldn't —" Then Myka motioned toward the general direction of her room. "I can always come back another time."

"No, no, please — come on in." H.G. smiled charmingly and gestured to a spare chair by her desk.

Myka returned the smile. "All right. Thanks." She entered with a thick booklet in hand, and took in the layout of the room. It was largely the same as hers and Pete's, but lacked a definite personal touch, as H.G. had only moved in to the B&B a few days ago. The more she looked around the more she realised H.G. might have trouble finding interior decorations that suited her nineteenth century taste, with everything changed in her hundred-year absence. Then Myka settled into the proffered chair, and placed the booklet onto her lap.

H.G. pushed what she was working on to the side and shifted in her chair to better face Myka. Her gaze followed Myka as she sat, and she offered Myka a small grin. "So, what's this?" She motioned toward the hefty booklet. "Surely that's not the paperwork for me to process from our last case?"

"This —? No," Myka laughed. "But I'm guessing writing a report on time travel would definitely be one of our more interesting ones."

"I would imagine so." H.G. quirked her lips ever so slightly.

"All thanks to you, though," Myka said warmly. Sometimes, it was easy to forget this amazing woman in front of her was both the inventor of a functional time machine, and the genius behind novels like _The Time Machine_ or _The War of the Worlds_. Gazing into H.G.'s warm, dark brown eyes, Myka wondered what it would be like to possess such vivid imagination, such prophetic and artistic vision to create those seminal works of literature.

H.G. noticed Myka's gaze, and spoke with a hint of a smile. "What?"

"Nothing." Myka cleared her throat. Quietly drumming her fingers on the cover of the book in her lap, she looked over at H.G.'s desk. "So — what are you working on there? A new invention? New ideas for a story?"

H.G. gave Myka a look for the obvious diversion before following her gaze toward the several sheets of paper on her desk. "It's just an entry of sorts — I used to keep a diary."

"Ah," Myka said understandingly as she looked away from H.G.'s private entries.

"I suppose it is rather mundane, but I do miss writing." H.G. fingered her locket absently. "I wanted to write earlier, but — recent events have left me preoccupied with other matters, until now." H.G. always had a flair for understatement, and this was no exception.

"But don't you want an actual diary? Loose pages really aren't much of a substitute."

Feeling an offer coming her way, H.G. said pre-emptively, "Please don't trouble yourself over me — I'll make do with what's here." Then she picked up a pen and said wryly, "Though, if anything, pens nowadays really aren't what they used to be."

Myka murmured concurrently, noting the cheap ballpoint pen in H.G.'s hand. It would be nice, she thought, if she could buy H.G. a little something — maybe a nicer pen — during one of their cases or missions.

H.G. rolled the pen between her fingers and gazed at Myka perceptively. "So, Myka… as much as I enjoy your delightful company, this isn't just a social call, I presume?"

"Right," she nodded. "I wanted to give you something."

"Oh?" With her curiosity piqued, H.G.'s hands stilled as she gazed attentively.

"I don't know how much the Warehouse's changed since your time, but I brought you my copy of the Warehouse manual —" Myka gestured, "— if you want to look through it."

"That's really sweet of you." H.G. placed the pen down and extended her hand. "May I?"

Myka gave H.G. the manual. "It's not much, and it certainly shouldn't replace an actual orientation, but I thought you might want to take a look."

"Thank you." H.G. ruffled the pages and smiled. "It's very thoughtful of you."

Their eyes connected, and in that instance Myka felt Helena had gracefully accepted her wordless apology for Artie's behaviour yesterday morning. While she couldn't do anything to contain the overt awkwardness between the two at the breakfast table, the least she could do now was to help Helena familiarise herself in a different and foreign world.

Then Myka looked down for a moment, and back at Helena, before saying, "He'll come around, you know."

H.G. gave a small, half-hearted smile, as though she didn't have the heart to argue but knew otherwise.

"It'll take awhile, but he will," Myka insisted. "Please give him some time."

H.G. inclined her head in assent. "I'll try my best — I do want to be a part of the hodgepodge Warehouse family here."

Myka grinned at her response. "For the record, you already are, as far as I'm concerned."

The small smile that then lit across Helena's face warmed her, and Myka was sure it would warm Artie's grumpy old heart too, if he would just give her a chance.

As she held Helena's gaze, the need to bring their conversation back to more neutral ground grew. Myka gestured to the manual and offered, "I wrote notes throughout — I hope you don't mind."

What Helena didn't need to know was that she'd spent the earlier part of her evening going through the manual, writing little notes and explanations for any recent or new terminology that first cropped up within the last several decades.

H.G. looked down, thankfully breaking eye contact, and opened to a page in the manual, idly fingering the note-filled transparent tabs with coloured ends. "Of course not. I'm sure they'll be very helpful." H.G. ran her hand along the page and quickly skimmed the history of Warehouse 13's inception. "Thank you, again. I think this'll make for interesting and informative bedside reading."

"You'd be the only one — I've been trying to get Pete to read it since last year." Myka grinned and shook her head.

"Ah," H.G. murmured knowingly. "I take Pete isn't much of a reader?"

"Not unless the books have pictures, nope." Myka made a face and smiled, recalling the hoops she had to jump through to acquire that issue of _Iron Shadow _for Pete.

"I see. But that aside, I don't think I'm the only one," H.G. said idly as she flipped to another section, a detailed list of literary artefacts.

"The only one what?"

"You're quite well-read yourself, Ms. Bering," H.G. said as she perused the notes. "And you've pored over the manual enough for me to know you find it likewise informative." H.G. flipped another page. She gave Myka a look and said smoothly, "That, and your notes appear to be curiously detailed."

Myka had expected H.G. to eventually figure out she added extra notes for her benefit, but not this quickly — and certainly not while she was still in the room with her. She had no doubts that H.G. figured her out; her knowing gaze alone spoke volumes. Myka couldn't decide if she felt impressed or resigned more.

"But I suppose that's Myka Bering for you," H.G. concluded, almost as though it were to save her the trouble of admission or denial.

Myka shook her head with a smile and accepted defeat, just this time. "You're one hell of a woman, aren't you?"

H.G. suppressed a smile of her own. "So I've been told, yes." Then she peeled a tab off the page. "While you're still suitably impressed, might I ask a favour?"

"What?" Myka asked, as H.G. held a green Post-it Flag stuck to her forefinger.

"I'd love to use some of these colourful flaps. They look ever so handy," H.G. said with a mirthful grin.

—

"Gather around, gather around," Artie ushered as Pete and Claudia straggled in for breakfast, clearly sleep-deprived. "Come on, we have a case."

Myka looked up from buttering her toast. "What's up with you two? Claud?"

"Pete here," Claudia mumbled through a stifled yawn, "thought it would be a good idea to turn yesterday into a mega movie marathon night. I got about an hour of sleep. Tops."

"I'll have you know it was a night well spent," Pete said. "Every minute of it was —"

"— a complete waste of time." Myka arched a brow in challenge. "I know." She gave Pete a look then shot a glance toward H.G. who smiled sympathetically in return.

Leena brought in a bread basket and several mugs of coffee.

"Hey, we were watching classics among classics! — Thanks, Leena — They shape the very fabric of classic… classicky… movies —" Pete punctuated each word with a jab from his butter knife.

"Which, in your case," Myka said as she continued buttering her toast, "probably translates to something like the tallywhacker scene in —"

Pete whispered loudly to Claudia. "Hey Claud, Myka said tallywhacker —!"

"Will you _ever_ grow up?"

H.G. looked on with the distant interest of an observer as she continued to sip from her mug of tea.

"It _is_ kind of funny," Claudia interrupted unhelpfully.

"Myka said tally—"

"Children!" Artie bellowed. "We have a case? Dangerous artefacts on the loose?"

"But she started i—" Pete withered under Artie's gaze and busied himself with filling his plate with croissants.

"Moving along," Artie said gruffly. "— thank you, Leena — we've got a ping in Pittsburgh." He took a sip from his coffee and flipped open his file. "There's been a suicide that's —" He gave everyone a quick glance. "— well, let's just say it's probably artefact-related."

Artie started to hand out copies of the file. First to Myka on his left, then after a small pause at the sight of Pete trying to stuff an entire croissant in his mouth, he handed the second file to H.G. wordlessly.

Ignoring the look of beaming encouragement on Myka's face, Artie continued. "A young man called Kyle Nichols, with no previous history of suicidal tendencies or self-harm, publicly killed himself with a bullet through his head."

Claudia peered over Artie's shoulder to get a good look inside the file, and raised her eyebrows at the photographs. "Not exactly breakfast topic material there." She averted her eyes and muttered, "That's going to put me off spaghetti and meatballs for awhile."

"And that's why we don't look over people's shoulders." Artie gave Claudia a look then turned to the others. "Alright, I've got your tickets ready. So you, you —" Artie pointed at Myka and Pete. "— and you." Artie jabbed his finger in H.G.'s general direction. "You're all headed for Pittsburgh in…" Artie took a quick look at the clock. "In half an hour. Now hup! Get to it." He handed them their airline tickets and gestured again. "Go!"

Still seated, H.G. whispered to Myka, glancing at the file in her hand. "Is that it?"

Myka said, "That briefing's considered informative, for Artie."

"Whn wh wmrt thihmts tmh dm Hheers hmmh?"

Artie turned at Pete.

Myka looked over at Pete and looked resigned. "He's asking if he can get tickets to the Steelers game."

"Mmh!" Pete said approvingly, and continued chewing on his croissant.

Artie then raised one finely bushy eyebrow and extended his hand in a gesture of incredulity.

"Right." Myka snapped her file closed and stood. "We're leaving." Myka gave H.G. a small smile, and turned to Pete. "Pete! We're heading upstairs now."

Pete gave a 'What did I do?' look to Claudia and got up obediently, jogging after Myka and H.G. after doubling back to snag another croissant for the road.

"Claudia. You start digging up information — I've only hacked into the basic PBP files for the Nichols case. They'll need intel on family, friends, potential connections — you know the drill."

"Right. On it." Claudia saluted to Artie and took her mug of coffee to leave, only to turn on her heels and head into the kitchen for a stronger supply of caffeine.

Leena watched Claudia leave before getting into the chair next to Artie. "Artie, if you send H.G. on that mission with Pete and Myka, you'll have to go in the field with Claudia if we get another ping. Wouldn't it be easier if —?"

Artie held up a hand to halt her words and whispered fiercely. "I'm — vaguely — open to the idea that woman could be one of the good guys now, but —" Artie turned and made sure Claudia wasn't within earshot, then leaned in toward Leena. "But oh no, I'm not partnering her up with Claudia. Claudia's still just a fledgling. Completely! Completely green behind the ears. If she pulled anything…" Artie rubbed his beard and said, "I trust Pete and Myka to have each other's backs."

—

PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA

Pete took in a deep breath and spread his arms. "Velcome! Velcome to Pennsylvania, the land of vampires!"

Myka tried to rein in the desire to correct her loveable, but not-so-literary partner, who already had gems like 'To Mock a Killingbird' to his name. Harper Lee aside, Bram Stoker was surely rolling in his grave.

"What's this about vampires?" H.G. asked.

"Oh, H.G., you ever watch _Dracula's Daughter_? The movie's pretty old." Pete continued with a grin and a finger gun gesture, "Kinda like you."

"Just ignore him," Myka advised.

"I think I'll have to take your advice in any case," H.G. said wryly, "as I'm not sure what he just said apart from calling me old." H.G. crossed her arms and gave Pete a look of mock displeasure.

"Hey, you're old, but in a good way —" Pete struggled for a save. "I mean, you look really good, being in your hundred and fifties and everything. You barely have any wrinkles."

"You're not helping your case, Pete, and H.G. knows kenpou." Myka looked at Pete and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"He has to be doing this on purpose," H.G. said.

Their Farnsworth sounded, punctuating H.G.'s statement with a loud blare.

"Sadly, I don't think he is," Myka said as she fished out the Farnsworth from her coat pocket. She grinned at H.G. and added, "Don't beat him up too badly, okay?" And she moved to the side to open the Farnsworth.

"Aye aye, captain." H.G. saluted, then looked over at Pete.

"Hey, watch it there, you're not going to fight dirty again, are you?" Pete grimaced. "I don't think my head can take Round 2 from your magneto boots."

H.G. leaned in with a smile and said, "I will, if you don't watch your mouth from now on." She patted him lightly on the arm, and then moved toward Myka.

"What kind of sweet little Victorian lady threatens people?" Pete muttered under his breath.

H.G. turned back to Pete and gave him a look. "Now come on. We've got an artefact to retrieve."

"Alright, alright, I'm coming…"

H.G. and Pete gathered around, standing on either side of Myka as she held open the Farnsworth.

"Okay guys, I was just telling Myka about Kyle Nichols," Claudia said as she brought the two up to speed. "I did a little digging, and it looks like Kyle's a recent grad from Pitt. Got good grades, was the VP of some student group, you get the idea." Claudia scrolled through her notes. "Other than two speeding tickets, he was your typical model student. And… he even got an interview at a real shmancy consulting company — Empyrean Services LLC. I definitely wouldn't peg him for the blow-your-brains-out type."

Myka traded glances with Pete and turned back to the Farnsworth. "You got an address to go with that company, Claud?"

"Yup. Gimme a sec." Claudia shuffled through some notes and peered at a page. "Hm, you might want to drop by Kyle's rents first. It should be on your way to the company. I'll send you the co-ordinates to both."

"Thanks, Claud."

Claudia saluted with two fingers, and Myka snapped the Farnsworth shut. "All right then," Myka said, looking at H.G., "let's head out."

Pete pulled into the driveway of the Nichols' house soon thereafter, the trip to Moon Township being a short drive from the airport. As they came to a stop, Myka pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and looked out to confirm Joseph and Evelyn Nichols' house number matched the one in the file.

"And here we are," H.G. said.

"Mm," Myka murmured as she gathered loose pages together. She looked at H.G. through the rear-view mirror. "Let's get to the bottom of this, shall we?"

They left their black rental SUV and walked up the front path. The Nichols lived in a modest but cosy-looking home with a well-kept front yard. And were it not for Kyle's untimely, and in all likelihood artefact-related death, they might've been just another family like any other.

Neither she nor Pete enjoyed barging in on a grieving family, but they did what they had to do. It somehow felt reassuring to have H.G. by her side; all three of them had experienced the loss of a loved one and similarly shared and understood the same pain.

Readying her badge, Myka pressed the doorbell and waited.

Soon they heard the sound of a door latch opening, and an older woman in her late forties, whose face was stricken with ill-disguised grief, opened the door.

"Mrs. Nichols?" Myka asked.

"Yes…?"

"We're federal agents from the Secret Service —" Myka held up her badge. "I'm Agent Bering, and these are my colleagues, Agent Lattimer and Agent Wells. We're here to investigate the death of your son Kyle — would it be possible for us to come in to ask a few questions?"

Evelyn Nichols hesitated, keeping her hand on the doorknob.

"It'll just be a few questions, Mrs. Nichols," Myka said a little more insistently. "It won't take much of your time."

Evelyn looked toward the back of the house for a moment before deciding to open the door further. "Please, come in."

"Thank you."

All three of them entered the house and Myka followed Evelyn to the back while H.G. and Pete lagged a few steps behind.

"She's really good at this, isn't she?" H.G. said as she slipped her badge back into her vest pocket.

"Are you kidding? This is Myka we're talking about," Pete muttered.

"A very good point," H.G. whispered back.

Evelyn led them to the living room where Joseph sat, brooding, as he held onto one of several clear-wrapped packages of Kyle's personal effects.

"We just got back from the coroner's office," Evelyn provided quietly. She took in a steadying breath and spoke to her husband, but her voice still wavered. "Joseph… these three agents wanted to ask a few questions about — about Kyle."

Placing the package of a folded suit back down onto the coffee table, Joseph stared up at the three and sized them up. Pressing a fist against his mouth, he spoke in a controlled voice. "What do you want? We told the officers everything we know. My boy wasn't unhappy, wasn't depressed, and sure as anything wasn't suicidal."

"Sir," Myka interjected, "we aren't with the Pittsburgh Police — we're federal agents. We're very sorry to intrude, but we want to conduct a thorough investigation. It'll just be a few questions, and then we'll be on our way."

Joseph hesitated. But not having the energy to argue, he gestured to the couch opposite him. "Sit," he said wearily.

Myka and Pete obliged by sitting down on the cushy sofa while Evelyn took a seat beside her husband. H.G. remained standing and took a few steps away from the four, opting to observe and look around discreetly. Several family and group photographs decorated the shelves — ones of a happier time.

"I understand Kyle didn't seem unhappy or upset, but do you remember him acting strangely at all in the days leading up to his death?"

Joseph frowned. "No, he was the same as usual, if a bit edgy and nervous. But that was only normal."

And at the expression on Pete and Myka's faces, Evelyn clarified, "Kyle was going in for his second interview at a major consulting company downtown. He was saying how we could reserve a table at LeMont —" she paused, bringing a hand to her mouth, and said raggedly, "— and wait for the good news."

A major consulting company — in other words, Empyrean Services LLC again, Myka thought with a furrow of her brow. They really had to check that company out.

Pete toyed with the badge in his hands. "So your son was at the interview and then he —?"

Joseph nodded curtly. "The officers said according to witnesses, he — he did it after the interview. He just walked out of the building and out onto the street, then — bang."

The most obvious candidate for artefact-related hijinks would be the gun itself, but it probably wasn't going to be that easy. Myka asked, to be sure.

"Was the gun Kyle's? We checked the PICS and sales database but there's nothing registered under his name. Do you know if he somehow acquired a firearm out of state or through some other means recently?"

"The gun's mine," Joseph said gruffly, clearly frustrated. "I've had it for years. That's what I don't get about this damned business — I tried telling the officers it must've meant Kyle took my gun even before leaving the house. They're saying the stress got to him, but it just doesn't make any sense."

"Did he come into contact with anything new or unusual the last, um, few weeks or so?" Pete asked.

"No — no, I don't think so." He looked at Evelyn for confirmation, who merely shook her head. "Kyle's been job hunting for a while, and getting that call for an interview — that was the only thing. We're — we were so proud of him." He placed a hand on top of Kyle's suit again, and gazed with loss and longing.

Myka traded glances with Pete and stood up. "Thank you for your time, Mr. and Mrs. Nichols. That's all the questions we have today."

Joseph stood as well. Myka extended her hand and he gave her, then Pete a firm handshake.

H.G. slipped back into the group with Myka and Pete, giving the Nichols a wan smile.

Myka said sincerely, "Thank you. We'll be making our way out then — we're very sorry for your loss."

They made their way back to the SUV and slammed the car doors shut. In the safety of their rental car, Myka exhaled audibly.

"You alright, Mykes?"

"Yeah — yeah, I'm fine." Sitting back straight up, she was business as usual. "So what did you guys think?"

"I'm betting my bucks on the company," Pete said immediately.

"Right. I thought it was the gun at first, but that can't be it since they had it for years without incident."

"And the only thing new in his life was that interview at uh, Empire —"

"Empyrean Services," Myka said.

"Right," Pete nodded.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," H.G. said, poking her head from the rear of the car, "but aren't you two forgetting someone?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, H.G., we didn't mean to. We were just —"

H.G. waved it off. "I'm not talking about that, Myka. I mean about Kyle."

"About Kyle?" Myka traded looks with Pete, who only shrugged.

"Yes. His lady friend, of course," H.G. said with a bit of a smile. She extended her cell phone to show a picture of a framed photograph of Kyle and a young woman.

"How did you —?"

"When you were talking with the parents, of course," H.G. said cheerily. "I went into Kyle's room."

"But you can't do that —!"

"I also went into his parents' study. And practically every room on the first floor, actually," H.G. said thoughtfully. "It was interesting seeing modern American architecture."

"H.G.!" Myka said, half-appalled, and if she were willing to admit it, half-impressed.

"Well?" H.G. arched an eyebrow. "I understand Claudia can use this to somehow find more relevant information?"

"She has a point," Pete said. "We could just send this to Claud."

Myka looked at Pete, then at H.G. Reluctantly, she caved in, taking the phone from H.G.'s hand. "All right. But you really shouldn't have done that."

H.G. gave Myka a charming, but incorrigible smile.

Myka shook her head. She pressed on 'Options' to send the photo to Claudia when she noticed a small detail — the picture was numbered PICT006. On a hunch Myka went back and checked the media folder, and her grin widened. In it was evidence of H.G.'s failed attempts and fumble with the new technology; the discrepancy from H.G.'s usual image made it into excellent fodder for teasing her with.

"Helena, what's this?" Myka asked with a grin.

"What?" H.G. peered into the cellular phone and grew mildly ruffled.

"I can't believe it took you six tries to get a good shot," Myka teased.

"Yeah, H.G., I thought English people were supposed to be smart," Pete added.

"Oh, hush, the both of you." H.G. sat back in her seat and crossed her arms.

Myka turned in her seat to look at her and said with a barely suppressed grin, "I'll send the picture to Claudia now. Thanks for the lead, Helena."

Somehow, the gratitude Myka expressed wasn't nearly as satisfying as she imagined it would be.

* * *

><p>See my blog for corresponding notes, pictures, and interesting titbits on each chapter or part published; I invariably write one up for each installment. I try to be as factual as possible in all my writing, so most (if not all) things featured in my stories will have some basis in reality. Here's a link to the post if you don't feel like clicking around from my profile to my site: <strong>tinyurl. com c6d775e**

(For anyone who would like me to reply to his or her more in-depth review, feedback, or critique, feel free to leave a comment on the aforementioned post, as it's much easier for me to reply to.)

Also, as a complete Jaime Murray fangirl, I express my ultra-est love for H.G. x Myka, but I'm a fan of slow and gradual progressions instead of "Whoo! I magically wanna jump in your pants". So it will take awhile — just the way I like it.


	2. Bang for the Buck, Part II

Within moments, Pete started up the engine and began to pull out of the Nichols' driveway. Meanwhile, Myka sent the photo to Claudia, and then turned to offer H.G. the Farnsworth with a small, genuine smile.

Recalling their conversation the previous night on their 'hodgepodge Warehouse family', H.G. smiled, very much appreciating Myka's gesture — apart from Artie, Claudia was in all likelihood the one she had the most trouble connecting with, as a person born in and shaped by a world so distant and far from her own. Claudia was a smart girl, and had a flair for invention — she supposed they might bond that way, once she was caught up with the technological marvels and innovations of the last century.

H.G. accepted the Farnsworth, flipped it open, and turned it on. "Claudia."

Claudia turned with a start, bumping her knee loudly against the desk. "Ow ow ow, H.G.! You scared the bejeezus outta me," she said, rubbing her knee and wincing.

H.G. smiled indulgently. "Do I still make you nervous, darling?"

"No! No, of course not," Claudia said as she hurried to balance a stack of Artie's files that now threatened to tumble . "What's up?"

"Myka should've sent you a photograph a minute or so ago," H.G. said. "Have you received it?"

"Yeah, um, give me one second…" Claudia moved off-screen and sounds of more fumbling were heard. Claudia sat back into her chair a moment later. "Right, lemme check… yeah, I got it."

"Could you look up some information on that girl in the picture? We think she might be Kyle's lover."

"Uh yeah, sure thing." Claudia started typing, the clatter of keys apparent even over the Farnsworth.

"We're heading to the company you mentioned earlier," H.G. said, trying to make conversation. "It's a promising lead."

"Yeah? Uh, look, um, H.G., I'll call you back when I get something."

"All right. Thank you."

Claudia gave H.G. a little smile as she turned the Farnsworth off, before letting out a small sigh of relief as she sank into her chair.

H.G. still left her a bit on edge, and she began to wonder if Artie's 'That woman is evil, eviler, and even more evil' tirades when H.G. was first reinstated had rubbed off on her, even if just a little bit. H.G. was a smart cookie, very progressive, and definitely kind of neat for a woman from the nineteenth century. That, and H.G. had saved her life after she fell into a vat of bubbling poison. Major brownie points there, even if she wasn't Artie's favourite person.

Claudia started to run a few programs to help her locate the mystery woman from the photo as she continued to mull over the idea of a not-evil H. G. Wells. For one, Myka seemed to trust her, and Myka was a lot more experienced — and less unyielding than Artie — when it came to stuff like figuring people out.

—

Weaving through lunch hour traffic, H.G., Myka, and Pete reached Downtown Pittsburgh some time later. After parking near the company, Pete insisted on having lunch first, and Myka eventually relented. After all, H.G. only had a cup of tea in the morning, and she herself had nothing more than a piece of toast, not even having enough time to get to her morning coffee or anything else before they left the Warehouse.

They entered One Oxford Centre and made their way to the food court, where Pete immediately made a beeline toward a shop to order fried food. Minutes later, he was holding a plate with several skewers of fried meat, and recommended the city chicken to H.G. and Myka, his apparent fascination with it largely because 'it wasn't really chicken'.

Myka was about to pass, but decided to share one with H.G. when she expressed an interest.

Afterwards, H.G. and Myka were seated at a café, finishing their salads and savoury sandwiches as Pete continued browsing for more interesting — and in all likelihood, unhealthy — food. Myka looked out one of the restaurant windows and into the atrium, noticing a bookstore and recalled her original desire to get something better for H.G. to write with. There was, she reasoned, bound to be a pen shop or two within walking distance in Downtown Pittsburgh. Myka searched for one with her phone, and soon decided that a visit to J. R. Weldin Company, a historic pen shop only about two blocks away, was in order.

Flipping her phone closed, Myka spoke. "Pete's probably going to be awhile. And there's something I need to buy before we head over to Empyrean Services — will you be all right on your own?"

"Of course." H.G. smiled, placing her drink down and dabbing her mouth with a napkin. She patted the breast pocket of her vest. "I'm sure American money won't pose too much of a problem."

After about half an hour later, the three met back up and entered the expansive lobby of Empyrean Services LLC. Pete had temporarily sated his endless appetite, Myka had completed her personal little mission and tucked the gift safely away in the rental SUV, and H.G. had enjoyed a pleasant lunch accompanied by live piano music wafting from the atrium.

They boarded an elevator, and reading off the floor guide plaque, Myka pressed for the second floor to the Human Resources department. Thanks to Claudia's quick search through company memos and e-mails, their investigation was made that much easier; they only needed to speak with Roxanne Ledesma, the woman who headed both of Kyle's — and other candidates' — interviews for the position at the company.

The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open. They walked a ways down the hall, turned a corner, and were faced with the front desk.

"I got this," Pete said to H.G. and Myka as soon as he spotted the receptionist. He strode toward the front desk and leaned his elbow against the counter, greeting the receptionist with a smile. "Hey."

The receptionist covered her receiver with a hand and said to Pete, "One moment, sir."

"Alrighty."

Myka grinned and crossed her arms, watching the interaction unfold. After several moments, H.G. leaned in and observed, "He's not faring very well with her, is he?"

"Give him his due," Myka whispered back. "I don't know what he does, but he has his appeal to some. Like Kelly — I think she's great for him."

H.G. considered this. "He isn't much of a kisser though."

Myka slowly turned to H.G. and gave her a dubious look. "And you know this —?"

At Myka's expression, H.G. looked back at her quizzically. "Pete must've mentioned it. Back in London where we first met — when you sent everyone away from my home, I doubled back and flirted with him to lower his guard."

A look dawning comprehension spread across Myka's face. She whispered, "So _that's_ how you pulled the Tesla on him so easily!"

"I thought you knew," H.G. said.

"He wouldn't tell me when I asked him." Myka said with a grin, "But it all makes sense now." She turned back to Pete and grinned more widely as she added, "And, he's not going to have much luck charming that receptionist either."

"Why's that?" H.G. looked over at the young woman, now speaking with Pete.

"Because," Myka said. "You see the bracelet on her right arm? She's gay."

H.G. looked at the receptionist again. "I think she looks rather exasperated at this point."

Myka smiled and clarified quietly, "I mean she likes women."

"Oh?" H.G. raised her brows with a mixture of mild surprise and interest.

"You see the interlocking female symbols on the bracelet? And the rainbow-coloured bobble on her purse?"

"And all those indicate her inclination toward —?"

"Yup." Myka grinned again. "And it's just so fun watching Pete squirm."

After a few more awkward moments, Pete walked the few steps back to H.G. and Myka. "Right, so Ledesma's in her office. We've been paged in so we can go and do our thing."

"So," Myka grinned, tilting her head in the receptionist's direction, "how'd she like the ol' Pete Casanova?"

"Yeah, she liked it fine," Pete said, patting his hands on his thighs. "But, you know, I have Kelly — so I cut things off before it got serious." Pete lowered his voice and said, "Don't want to break the receptionist's heart or anything, you know."

"Right," Myka said indulgently before walking towards Ledesma's office.

"The receptionist is gay," H.G. offered pleasantly, patting Pete on the arm, before moving toward the office.

"That explains so much," Pete muttered under his breath.

The three entered Roxanne Ledesma's office and was greeted with a hard and mildly derisive tone. "How can I be of service? — To the Secret Service, no less."

"Ms. Ledesma, we're here to investigate Kyle Nichols' death."

"That kid who shot himself?" Half sitting on her desk, she crossed her arms and asked, "What about him?"

"You don't seem that shaken up or upset," Myka said pointedly.

"Look," Roxanne said, "I barely knew him. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm a busy woman. Can we get on with it?"

"All right," Myka said, pursing her lips. "We need to know if Kyle acted strangely anytime during the interview."

"Like what?"

"Anything," Pete said.

Roxanne took a pen from her desk organiser and toyed with it. "Well, he was jiggling his foot the whole time. God, I hate that."

"Anything else?" H.G. asked wryly.

Roxanne gave H.G. a look before she scrunched up her nose. "No, not really. What's this all about?"

Ignoring her question, Myka pushed on. "Are all interviewees received in this office?"

"The ones I interview, sure."

Myka traded glances with H.G. beside her. If the artefact was here in this room, it would have to be something that only Kyle came in contact with.

"Is there any special process or procedure the interviewees go through before seeing you? Like forms they have to fill elsewhere, or —"

"Uh, no. They just come up here as arranged, wait outside for their turn, and come in like anybody else."

"Then," Myka said, "while in your office, did Kyle touch or come in contact with anything in particular that no one else did?"

"No," Roxanne said slowly. She put the pen back into its holder and stood up. "What's this really about anyway? Correct me if I'm wrong — and I know I'm not — but Secret Service agents don't investigate petty local suicides or ask moronic questions."

"That's —" Pete struggled to keep his words polite, before settling with saying, "It's complicated."

"I'm sure it is," Roxanne said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got actual work to do. So unless you'd like to tell me what this is about —?"

"No, I think we're good," Myka said, plastering on a professional smile. "Thank you for your time."

They left the office in record time, walking down the hall to the elevator. Pete pushed the elevator button roughly and was the first to comment on Roxanne. "Three guesses to who's got a major stick up her ass, and the first _three_ don't count."

"Pete," Myka reprimanded, more out of habit than anything.

"Don't tell me you didn't think the same."

Myka gave Pete a look but refrained from commenting. "That lead didn't work out quite so well," she said finally.

"Tell me about it," Pete said. "I think we've had enough of McFrigid's hospitality."

"We should check and see if Claud's got anything more promising on the girlfriend front," Myka suggested.

"Not just yet," H.G. said contemplatively.

Myka turned to H.G. "What is it? Do you have some sort of lead?"

The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open.

"Perhaps. You two should return to the lobby first — I'll just be a minute."

Pete said, "C'mon, Mykes. We can call Claudia and see what she's got."

"All right," Myka said, looking at H.G. We'll just be by the main entrance."

H.G. nodded. Pete and Myka stepped into the elevator and pressed for the lobby. H.G. gave a small smile to the two as the doors closed.

When the elevator began its descent, H.G. turned back the way she came and walked steadily toward the front desk — but more specifically, toward the woman who manned the position.

Leaning with both arms against the counter, H.G. sought the receptionist's attention. She had overheard Ledesma say the girl's name earlier before they went into her office. "Excuse me," H.G. said, "Rebecca, was it?"

Rebecca looked up from her work, and her gaze fell on H.G. "Yes, that's right," she said as the pen stilled in her hand. "How can I help you?"

"Well, you remember my colleague Pete?" H.G. asked.

"How could I not?" she said with a little smile. "What about him?"

"As you know, we're here on an investigation," H.G. said, pulling her badge out in one smooth motion to show Rebecca before slipping it back into her pocket. She leaned forward with a seductive gaze and smile, her dark hair cascading down from one shoulder.

"Mm hm," Rebecca agreed, her eyes fixated on H.G.

"But I think Pete neglected to ask you a few key questions — he seemed rather preoccupied with winning your affections instead," H.G. said with a kindly smile. "Not," she confided, looking straight at Rebecca, "that I entirely blame him."

Rebecca smiled again, and put her pen down. Leaning one elbow on her desk, she began to toy with a lock of auburn hair. "Tell me, agent, do you charm your way through every case like this?"

"Well, that depends," H.G. said slowly, with a smile. "Have I managed to charm you yet?"

Rebecca gave a short, quiet laugh, thrilled by the smooth confidence. "Yes, yes you have." Propping her chin up with one hand, Rebecca gazed appreciatively upon the handsome features of the British woman in front of her, whose poise and bearing spoke of refinement and grace from times past, and who exuded a comfortable charm. She said disbelievingly, "And the best part…? I don't even know your name yet."

"Helena," H.G. said with a small inclination of her head.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," Rebecca said softly. "And please, call me Becca. All my friends do."

"Becca. I'll keep that in mind."

A pleasant shiver passed through her at the sound of her name rolling off Helena's tongue in her refined accent. Becca's gaze fell briefly on Helena's half-unbuttoned blouse, just low enough to show the promise of cleavage. Looking back up, Becca asked, "So… what can I do for you?"

With her keen hearing, H.G. could hear the faint sounds of Ledesma talking angrily into her phone from her office, threatening to hang up. Aware of the limited time she had, H.G. decided to speed things along.

Exhaling slowly, she murmured huskily with a hooded gaze. "There are a lot of things I have in mind, but…"

"But…?"

"… but I'm afraid duty calls," H.G. said apologetically, letting a look of disappointment cross her face, "and I really can't stay long — would you mind entirely if —?"

"Not at all," Becca said, disappointed, but keenly aware that work was what it was. "I completely understand."

H.G. smiled sympathetically and spoke in a low voice. "I was wondering what you could tell me about Kyle, if you remember him. A young man, with ash brown hair?"

"Ah, I think he came to see Ms. Ledesma a few days ago —" Becca scrolled the schedule back. "— yes, on Monday."

"Was there anything strange about him?"

"No, I don't think so," Becca said, unsure, her mind still on Helena's irresistible gaze.

"Anything at all," H.G. coaxed. "Anything that struck you as even the least bit odd." H.G. knew she was fishing for a hint or lead that might not even be there, but at the same time, she had no doubt that Becca would provide to be much more cooperative than her boss Roxanne Ledesma ever could.

Becca furrowed her brow as she tried to recall the events of that day; Helena obviously thought it was important, so there should've been something — Something flashed across Becca's face before her face fell again. "No, I don't think it's…"

"What is it?" H.G. asked.

"It's probably nothing. It's — I don't even know why I thought about it." Then seeing Helena's expression, she relented, and hoped something so trivial wouldn't disappoint her too badly. "Kyle… when he left Ms. Ledesma's office, he persistently tried to convince me to go down to the lobby with him," Becca explained. "I thought it was his way of asking me out for a coffee at the time, since there's a small café downstairs, but… now that I think about it, it doesn't make much sense since he went and… you know, right after."

H.G. tried to fit the new information in with what she knew about the artefact. "Becca, that's very helpful. Was Monday the first time you saw Kyle? I understand he came here twice to be interviewed."

Becca paused to think for a moment. "No, I remember — I was filling in for Macy that day, but I saw Kyle then too."

"Did he tried to convince you to go anywhere with him that time?"

"No," she said slowly. "Kyle kept to himself the first time. He even commented on my bracelet and was really nice about it," Becca said as she fingered the interlocking symbols, "so I thought for sure he knew and was cool with it. That's why I thought it was a bit odd for him to ask me down to the lobby with him."

H.G. considered and processed this new information — it was even further evidence that Kyle had come in contact with the artefact between his first and second interview. In her experience, artefacts rarely took too long to activate or take effect, which meant the likelihood of the artefact being somewhere else entirely was even higher.

Then a door slammed roughly, and both H.G. and Becca turned toward its source, in the direction of Ledesma's office. Ledesma would, no doubt, come bearing down on them within moments, and would probably not take too kindly to her receptionist having a jolly good time while she herself was in a foul mood.

"Thank you," H.G. whispered.

"It was my pleasure," Becca said. And after a moment's hesitation, she called out. "Helena?"

H.G., who had already turned to leave, turned back toward Becca.

"… you probably travel a lot, being a federal agent and everything," Becca said quickly, "but if you're around, give me a call?" She scribbled her number onto a scrap and slipped the folded piece of paper to H.G.

In lieu of a reply, H.G. leaned in to kiss Becca lightly on the cheek, and pulled away. Then with a small smile, she took the piece of paper, and turned to leave by the stairwell, disappearing as quickly as she had come.

Becca's gaze followed, watching, until the stairwell door gently clicked shut.

Ledesma bore down on Becca within moments after. "Rebecca! Cancel my appointments for the next two hours," she ordered crisply before striding off, muttering obscenities under her breath all the way.

Becca complied, used to her unofficial position as Ledesma's personal secretary. But her mind was elsewhere, centred on a certain very attractive and striking Briton, and on her own newfound taste for older women.

H.G. made her way down the flight of stairs quickly, still feeling the exhilaration from their little game of flirtation. It had been a century since, but old skills — and habits — die hard, even if the rules had changed somewhat.

Still, she doubted she would be able to make good on Becca's offer. They had yet to locate the artefact, least of all even coming close to identifying what it might be. Somewhat disappointed, H.G. recalled the look in Becca's eyes when they parted, and felt the mild stirrings of desire. Shaking the feeling off, H.G. focussed her mind back on the case.

Entering the lobby, she glanced around for Myka and Pete, and found them near the main entrance at one of the café tables, where Myka was talking into the Farnsworth.

She walked over toward the two and called out. "Pete. Myka."

"Hey," Pete said, nursing a coffee.

"How did your lead pan out?" Myka looked up from her conversation with Claudia.

H.G. grinned, and turned to Pete as she held up a scrap piece of paper between two fingers.

"What's that?" Pete asked.

H.G. only smiled and arched a brow slightly in response. When Pete reached for the scrap, she pulled away at the last second. After two more quick attempts from Pete, H.G. gave him the answer as she kept the scrap from his reach.

"It's Becca's telephone number," H.G. said with a little smirk.

"Becca? Becca…" Pete scrunched his brow, until it dawned on him. "Oh no you _di'int_!"

"I did," H.G. said placidly, after making a face at Pete's enunciation.

Myka looked between the two. "Mind filling me in?"

"Yeah, what's this about?" Claudia's voice sounded from the Farnsworth, as Myka turned it around so Claudia could see.

"H.G. got the gay receptionist's number! Man, why does H.G. get to call her Becca?"

"So a noodle incident. Got it," Claudia summarised.

"Your lead was getting the receptionist's number?" Myka said, her expression much like the one when H.G. revealed she had kissed Pete. Somehow adding insult to injury was how she herself had pointed out the receptionist's interest in women.

"Merely incidental to my goal," H.G. said calmly. She took a seat at the table beside Myka and crossed her legs.

"Yeah, incidental to your goal of calling her Becca," Pete said sourly.

H.G. gave Pete a look and turned to Myka. "I found something interesting about Kyle from the girl, since Ledesma was less than forthcoming."

"What about?" Myka asked, putting her own feelings aside for the moment.

"Becca confirmed Kyle didn't start acting strangely until the second interview. I believe he came in contact with the artefact between his two visits here, which suggests the artefact is located elsewhere."

"That makes sense, and it corroborates with Pete's and my own assessment." Myka glanced between H.G. and Pete. "Ledesma isn't a pleasant woman, but my instinct says she's not hiding anything."

"Yeah, I didn't vibe out at the office or anything either."

"I like this group process elimination thing we've got going," Claudia chimed in. "Well, except I'm not really contributing, but I'm the techie. So that makes it okay, y'know."

"You found the girlfriend," Pete pointed out.

"Oh right, H.G.! Debra Barrett." Claudia nodded awkwardly, when Myka turned the Farnsworth toward H.G. "That's her — the girlfriend's name."

"Thank you, Claudia," H.G. said with a smile.

"Right. Uh, Myka, can you turn the, uh," Claudia gestured, "the Farnsworth around? Yeah, thanks."

"All right then —" Myka started.

"I still don't get why you get to call her Becca," Pete said suddenly.

"Same reason why I have her telephone number, one might suppose," H.G. posited nonchalantly.

"I mean, I get it, I get it," Pete said. "She digs chicks. But still — _Ledesma_ calls her Rebecca, for crying out loud! It's like she's putting me at the same level as McFrigid."

"Pete, just drop it," Myka said.

"Yeah, you should, Myka looks kind of miffed already," Claudia advised.

"She's miffed?" Pete asked.

"What? No," Myka said, looking between Pete and the Farnsworth. "No. I'm not miffed."

"Yeah, you are — you're pulling to the right." Claudia gestured a little. "You're definitely miffed about something."

"I'm not, all right, Claud?" Myka said in a low tone.

"Alright, you're the boss," Claudia said hesitantly, holding her hands up.

"Well, _I_ think it's cute when you're miffed," H.G. said mildly, propping her chin up with one hand.

Myka started to say something, then clicked her mouth shut. A moment later, she said briskly, "Did the receptionist say anything else apart from confirming Kyle's behaviour?"

"Yes, actually," H.G. said, returning to business as well, "it may or may not be relevant, but it seems the artefact may compel its user to seek an audience to witness his 'final act', shall we say."

"Sounds like something Artie would know about," Claudia piped up. "Should I go get him?"

"Yes, please do." Myka drummed her fingers on the table before she caught herself, and picked up her coffee for a sip.


End file.
